Harry Potter and the Portrait Studio
by Iris Lefay Longbottom
Summary: Remus Lupin's been working on a surprise for Harry's sixteenth birthday. Confrontations, arguments, revelations, revenge, more!
1. The Present

Harry Potter and the Portrait Studio

Iris Lefay Longbottom

Drama/Humor

Rated for mild language

Summary: Remus Lupin's been working on a special surprise for Harry's sixteenth birthday.  Confrontations, arguments, revelations, revenge, more!  R&R requested.  

AN:  This short piece is by way of bringing closure to some of the more gaping wounds left in the story at the end of OOTP.  I just want everybody to be warm and fuzzy and happy and good …

******************************************

**1.  The Present**

            Harry stepped through the front door at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, not knowing what to expect.  Remus Lupin had sent an owl to the Dursleys' the week before, saying only, _I have a birthday surprise for you.  It'll be ready when you come.  So today he had caught the Knight Bus into London and walked to the Black family mansion, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, visible only to a chosen few witches and wizards.  Whether he had been followed, he neither knew nor cared._

            Lupin appeared in the gloomy hallway and clapped Harry on the back.  "Happy birthday, Harry!"  He smelled strongly of turpentine, and by the light of the serpent-shaped chandelier in the hall Harry could see that he was wearing a grimy paint smock and had a smudge of green paint on his nose.

            "Thanks.  Where's everyone?"  Harry looked around.  Although the house was much cleaner than when he had first seen it a year ago, it still gave off an aura of decayed gentility.  The house-elf heads leered from their plaques, the portraits looked at him down their noses, and he and Lupin carefully kept their voices down so as not to rouse the painting of Mrs. Black, brooding behind her curtain.

            "Oh, out and about.  I haven't seen anyone for days.  The Weasleys are on holiday, you know.  Are you ready, Harry?"

            "Ready for what?"   

            "I just finished this morning.  I may have done something very foolish, Harry, but it seemed necessary."  Lupin led the way upstairs.  "If it doesn't turn out well, we can just forget the whole thing."  They started up the next flight.  "I wanted to surprise you," Lupin continued, "but you may find it something of a shock.   Just be prepared."  

            Harry nodded, with very little idea of what to be prepared for.  Lupin paused in front of a door on the third floor, said, "Welcome to my portrait studio, Harry," and opened the door.  

            "SURPRISE!  Happy birthday, Harry!"  exclaimed a chorus of voices.  

            Looking to the right, Harry saw a dark-paneled wall with three framed portraits hung on it.  In the left frame he saw his parents, James and Lily Potter, in the middle one, a young Sirius Black in his splendid prime of breath-catching beauty, and on the right, Sirius as Harry remembered his godfather since they had met two years ago.  All of them were smiling at him, the older Sirius with genuine recognition, the other three with friendly curiosity.  

            Harry tried to smile back and thank them, but nothing happened.  His face seemed to be stuck.  He turned to Lupin and managed to ask,  "You painted these?"  

            Lupin nodded.  "I just finished the second one of Sirius this morning.  His face isn't quite dry yet, I'm afraid.  But he's been bringing the others up to date."

            It _was a shock.  Harry's knees were shaking.  To give himself time to recover, he looked around the room, whose windows let in a north light, ideal for painting.  A clutter of papers, paint, brushes, charcoal, and canvas littered the large worktable, some of the brushes still busily cleaning themselves. A large squarish tin, with a silver snake on the label and the words "Superfine Surpentine Brand Turpentine: Lifelike Portraits Guaranteed," stood next to the photograph album of his parents, which Lupin had asked to borrow for "research."  Pinned to the walls appeared to be Kingsley Shacklebolt's entire collection of photographs and press cuttings concerning Sirius Black.  _

            "Won't you come closer, Harry, so we can see you properly?" asked Lily Potter. 

            Harry approached the paintings slowly, still at a loss for words, looking at Lily, with her long, dark-red hair and green eyes; James with Harry's features and untidy black hair.  But they were young, so young!  Only a few years older than himself, though nearing the end of their short lives.  They had been painted from a photograph that included himself as a baby, but his baby self was nowhere in sight.

            "I can leave the room, if you like," said Lupin quietly.  

            "No.  Stay," said Harry.  He gazed from one picture of Sirius to the other, the older one somewhat ravaged by his stay in Azkaban prison, but giving Harry a complicit, affectionate grin that made him swallow hard.  "Remus told me what happened to me," he said.  "Rough luck, Harry."  Someday they could talk about that …

            "He looks exactly like both of you," said the younger Sirius to the Potters.  "I knew he would, the first time you showed him to me."  

            Harry took a breath.  "Mum.  Dad.  Sirius."  He paused.  "Sirius," he said again.  Might as well take the bull by the horns.  "It's great to see you and everything … but there's something I need to ask you about."

            "Fire away," said James.  

            "It's about Professor Snape," said Harry.  

            "_Professor Snape?" snorted the younger Sirius.  "Professor __Snivellus Snape?  Do you mean to tell me that git is actually teaching at Hogwarts?"  He looked horrified.  "And students actually survive and come back for more?"_

            "Only because they have no choice," answered the older Sirius.   "Harry, are you quite sure you want to get into this?  Remus and I already told you—"

            "_Yes," said Harry stubbornly.  "I still don't get it.  I have to know why."  _

He flashed a glance to Lupin, who said, "Go for it, Harry.  You call the shots."

            "Dad," said Harry.  "I saw something that happened when you and Snape were at Hogwarts."  He began describing the scene from Snape's past he had witnessed in the Pensieve a few months before.  Lily held up her hand before he had finished.

            "Stop.  We all remember what happened," she said, so that he didn't have to put the unspeakable into words.    

Harry and James locked eyes.  

            "I know what you're asking me, Harry," said James.  "I know it looks bad.  But you can stare at me with Lily's accusing eyes all you want, and it won't change anything.  _You don't know how it was."  _

            "I saw what happened," said Harry.

            James said thoughtfully, "What's Snape like now, Harry?  Do you like him?"

            "No, we can't stand each other."

            "Why not?  Does he take advantage of his position to bully students and intimidate them?  Is he unfair and vindictive and bad-tempered?"  James saw the answer in Harry's face.  "He's _always been like that_, Harry!  When we were at Hogwarts together, he treated the younger students like scum; he got off on humiliating them and seeing them cringe!   He was a cruel, tale-bearing little sneak!  I was just giving him a taste of his own potion."

            "And that made you no better than he was, James," Lily scolded.  

            "But you married me anyway," said James.  

            "Only because you stopped behaving that way," she retorted.  "And I _thought _you had stopped making excuses for it."

            "No one's put me on the spot lately," said James ruefully.  "All right, Harry, I admit it was a stinking thing to do.  I was young and snotty.  Satisfied?"

            Harry let his face relax in a smile.  "For now, I reckon."  

            But Lily had a question.  "Harry," she said, "How did you happen to see that particular memory of Severus'?"

            Harry's mouth suddenly felt dry and his stomach squirmy.  The last of his righteous anger evaporated.  He almost wished he had left it alone after all.        "Professor Snape was teaching me Occlumency," said Harry, forcing himself to meet his mother's eyes.  "He would always put thoughts in the Pensieve before we started.  In the middle of one lesson he was called away and I was alone in his office with the Pensieve."  

            "I wouldn't have let a chance like that slip away either," the younger Sirius backed him up.  

            "Why not, Sirius?" asked Lily dangerously.  

            Young Sirius laughed and swept back his long hair.  "Merlin's beard, Lily, it was too perfect!  Alone in the room with exactly the memory he wasn't supposed to touch!  Snape might as well have begged Harry to dive in.  It was meant to happen!"

            "You know, Sirius," said Lupin, "I sometimes wondered why the Sorting Hat didn't put you in Slytherin."

            "Oh, it almost did," said young Sirius unconcernedly.  "Said I'd do well in Slytherin.  But I said to hell with that." 

            Harry's jaw dropped.  "Me too," he croaked.  

            "I had no intention of following that family tradition," said the older Sirius with a trace of bitterness.  "Even then."

            "But how did you keep from getting caught, Harry?" asked James with interest.

            "I didn't," said Harry, which was almost more embarrassing to confess than the act itself.  "Professor Snape found me in the Pensieve and threw me out of his office; said he never wanted to see me there again.  We've barely spoken since."

            "Has it ever occurred to you that you owe Professor Snape an apology, Harry?" Lily asked him.  

            Actually, the thought _had _occurred to Harry, but really doing it would have been so preposterous that he'd dismissed the idea out of hand.  Being confronted about it now made the anger and frustration he'd been feeling all year well up in him again.  He shouted at Lily, "Everyone was keeping me in the dark!  Nobody ever told me what I needed to know!  I had to find things out for myself!  What am I supposed to do, tell him I'm sorry I acted like a Slytherin?  And WHEN DID SNAPE EVER APOLOGIZE TO ME FOR ALL THE ROTTEN THINGS HE DID?"  Harry subsided, noticing how much his reasoning sounded like his father's.  

            "_How dare you talk to your mother that way?" thundered James.  _

            Lily put a hand on his arm.  "James, hush.  It's all right.  He needs to say it."

            The younger Sirius burst into helpless laughter.  "Oh, James, you're priceless," he gasped.  "Just listen to yourself going all stern and fatherly.  It's all a sham, Harry," he added in a confidential tone.  "He hasn't got a clue."

"I know," said Harry, with his fists still clenched.

Young Sirius chuckled again.  "Don't _you_ think it's funny, Sirius?" he appealed to his older counterpart.

            "Not as funny as you do, obviously, Sirius," said the older version of Harry's godfather.  But all the same, he too looked amused.  He gave Harry a wink.

            "You try being a father, Sirius," said James, clearly irritated.  "It's not as easy as it looks.  Especially when you have a teenager sprung on you without much warning."

            "Quite," agreed the older Sirius.  "Most especially one who knows things about you you'd rather he didn't."

            Harry was beginning to put the situation back in perspective.  "You can't tell me what to do, you know," he informed his father.  "You're only a painting."  In the heat of the moment he had actually forgotten this.

            James folded his arms.  "And do you hold that against me?  Against us?"  

            Harry's heart lurched with something he couldn't name.  They had died to save him, all of them … "It'd be pretty thick of me to do that.  It's just that … you're not real, and if I pretend you are, I'm fooling myself."

            "We're as real as Remus could make us, Harry," said Lily.  

"I have almost all the memories I had when I died," said the older Sirius. "I know you as you are now, Harry.  I know what we've been through together."

"We're sorry we had to leave you, Harry," said James.  

"But such as we are, real or not, we're here for you now," said young Sirius.  "And we'll never get any older, you know.  We'll stay just as you see us.  Just think, in a few years you'll be as old as we are."  Young Sirius sounded pleased, but the thought sent a shiver down Harry's back.  

"You have a bit to go before you catch up with me, though," said the older Sirius.  

Suddenly it was too much—all of it.  Harry wished he could turn them off, like a television program, and go off by himself to decide how he felt about everything.  And even that impulse made him question himself.  What kind of a son and friend was he, anyway?  

But Lupin was quick to sense that Harry had had enough for the moment.  "I think Harry and I will go down and get dinner now," he said.  "Harry can spend the night here and we'll see you again tomorrow."

Harry's painted family accepted this without question.  "Goodbye, Harry," they said together.  

"Bye, Mum … Dad … Sirius … Sirius," said Harry.  And that was that.  Lupin opened the door to the studio and Harry followed him out of the room and down three flights of stairs to the gloomy, smoke-blackened kitchen.  He wondered what Lupin must think of him.  The first time in his life he had a chance to talk to his parents he'd practically got into a shouting match with them.  

Lupin said nothing as he shrugged out of his paint smock and got out a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese, both of which looked (and smelled) well past their prime.  He looked at them and shrugged, pulled out his wand, pointed it at the food and said, "_Fresco!_"  Instantly the bread and cheese perked up and looked presentable, even edible.  

As he started slicing them onto two plates, Lupin's worn face broke into a smile.  "Well, Harry, I couldn't have scripted that scene better.  I was very pleased with all of you."

            "You were?"  said Harry blankly.  He helped himself to a bottle of butterbeer.  "But …you heard …"    

"Why shouldn't you and your parents shout at each other?" asked Lupin with a smile, melting some cheese on his bread with the help of his wand.  "It was quite entertaining to watch."

            "Well, I—" Harry took a bite of his own bread and cheese and thought about it.  The truth was that until recently Harry had idolized his parents, especially his father.  It was easy to think of them as perfect when they were dead.  But now, for the first time, Harry wondered what it would be like to be a father.  

            So he was rowing with his parents, just like any normal teenager!  Harry grinned.  Actually, it wasn't bad.  Not bad at all.  Mrs. Weasley might think of him almost as a son, but she never yelled at him as she did at her own children.  

            Lupin watched Harry's face as these thoughts went through his head.  "I liked the way you got straight to what was on your mind without wasting time," he said.  "You made excellent use of the situation."

            "Yeah, I guess," said Harry.  "Professor Lupin—"

            "I haven't been 'Professor' Lupin for quite a while now, Harry.  I think it's high time you started calling me Remus.  I want to do what I can to fill the place left by your parents and godfather, and I'd like to do it as a friend."

            "Well, you've made a really good start," said Harry.  "I didn't know you painted, Remus." 

            "It's never been more than a hobby," said Lupin, cutting more bread and cheese.  "But it turned out to be a good way for me to come to terms with Sirius' death."  

            Harry stood up and said abruptly, "I'd better go to bed now."  It was still early, but his need to be alone had suddenly grown acute.  

            "Good night then, Harry," said Lupin calmly.  "I don't even have a birthday cake for you.  I've been too busy to think of it."

            "I got one this morning," Harry assured him.  "From the Weasleys.  But your surprise was even better.  Not exactly fun, but … thanks, Remus."

            "Believe me, it's my pleasure, Harry.  And there's more, if you're up for it tomorrow."

********************

AN:  Coming soon: in the conclusion, a surprise visitor to the portrait studio.  Guess who?  Bwa ha ha ha ha!  I realize that this raises questions like: can two versions of the same person co-exist and even talk to each other?  


	2. Hindsight

AN:  The long-awaited concluding chapter is here!  Those readers with little time to spare can skim over the psycho-technical part in the kitchen and move on to the exciting confrontation in the studio.  Oh, excuse me, I forgot to disclaim ownership of Harry and his friends and enemies … though I feel as if I carry him in my heart.  You guys, I am ASTOUNDED at the response!!!!   I was determined to keep this short, but maybe I will add more chapters.  I have some ideas.  They need to stay in Grimmauld Place for now, as this chapter makes clear.  I encountered a story here with a similar idea (after I had started mine) called "The Lost Painting."  Can't remember the author.

**2.  Hindsight**

            In the morning when Harry came down to the kitchen, the bread and cheese had reverted to their original moldy state, and then some.  Lupin looked discouraged.  "The Refreshing Spell can only be used a few times on the same food," he said.  "Its effects wear off more quickly each time.  And eventually the food just … _Fresco!" he said without much hope, and the bread and cheese gave a small sigh and crumbled into dust.  _

            "I see what you mean," said Harry.  "You got anything else?"  

            "I've never been any kind of a cook," said Lupin, rummaging in a cupboard.  "We're certainly not bringing in any more house-elves.  And the past few days I've been wrestling with Sirius' portrait, so I haven't even gone shopping.  Tonks promised to bring something next time she comes; we're having a meeting tomorrow."  He pulled out a dusty box of cereal bought from a Muggle supermarket.  "How about this?"  

            "No milk, I reckon," said Harry.  

            "No, we can't get milk delivered here," said Lupin.  "Too risky."  

            Harry took a fistful of flakes out of the box and munched on them cautiously.  They were stale and gummy and stuck to his teeth.  "How many times have you done these?" he asked.  

            "Never, actually," said Lupin.  "I forgot they were here."  So they had dry cereal, washed down with butterbeer, but at least it tasted fresh.  While they were eating, Lupin placed a portfolio full of sketches and studies on the table.  "I wanted to show you these, if you're interested."

            "Sure," said Harry.  "Remus …"

            "Yes, Harry?" said Lupin.  

            "I was thinking about all this last night.  It seemed so real, talking to Mum and Dad and Sirius … both of him …"

            "I take that as a high compliment to my work, Harry."

            Harry nodded and frowned.  "Almost too real.  I kept forgetting it wasn't.  And it makes me wonder if I'm losing touch with reality or something.  Maybe it's a trap.  Dumbledore warned me in my first year about the Mirror of Erised, that it was dangerous to keep going there night after night …"

            "But yesterday, you had to leave after a few minutes," said Lupin.  "It wasn't comfortable, was it?"  

            "No," said Harry.  "It was …. "  

            "Surreal, would you say?  Harry, let me show you these and tell you a bit about them.  You're old enough to decide for yourself what you want to do."  He opened the portfolio, and Harry heard faint, murmuring voices.  "Most successful portraits are painted from life, and that makes it fairly simple to catch the spirit of the subject.  In unskilled hands, sometimes the result is a bit … one-dimensional."  Harry knew that Lupin was thinking of the portrait of Sirius' mother upstairs, with her endless tirades.

            "I had only photographs to work from, which is more difficult," Lupin went on, "but I knew the subjects intimately.  I could sense when I was on the right track."  He spread out a few of the pictures so Harry could study them.  "Thanks to you, I had a good photograph of James and Lily and you when you were nearly a year old.  I tried including you in the painting, but when I did, James and Lily couldn't keep their eyes off their baby for more than a minute."  He pointed to an oil sketch painted directly from the photograph, which Harry remembered well from his album.  Most of it was rough and lacking detail, but the faces and hands were carefully rendered.  Harry watched his parents cuddle him and talk baby talk to him.  Some of the names his mother called him were nearly as bad as Aunt Petunia's Dudley-diminutives, but not quite.  "They were crazy about you, Harry," murmured Lupin.  "I only needed to shift their attention outward, so they could relate to the real you in the present."

            Fanning out several studies of Sirius, Lupin went on, "Capturing Sirius as he was when he died turned out to be my greatest challenge.  I almost didn't finish in time.  I had no photographs of him since his escape from Azkaban.  I had to call on my memories, and to help me do that I painted Sirius at different times in his life.  This is the first portrait I made of him during his time in prison."  

It was the same young Sirius Harry had seen in the studio, as handsome as ever, but wild-eyed and desperate, still stunned by the hideous turn of events; painted jerkily, with sharp, jagged brushwork.  His haunted eyes fastened on Lupin.  "Remus?  I couldn't save James and Lily … You know I'm innocent, don't you?" he whispered hoarsely.  "You have to believe me!  Let me explain …Wormtail …"

            "I know what happened, Sirius.  You're not to blame," Lupin told him steadily.  

            "You don't know what it's like here, Remus … I have to hold on!"

            But before Sirius' eyes could turn toward him, Harry impulsively covered the picture with a pencil sketch of his parents.  Lupin looked up, and Harry shook his head.  "I can't … not yet," he said in a strangled voice, feeling oddly breathless.  

            "That was one of my more successful attempts," said Lupin, "but I didn't have the heart to frame it.  It cuts too near the bone.  Still, it gave me great insight into Sirius' character."  His lips tightened and the lines etched themselves deeper in his face.

            "How did you stand it?"  Harry's heart was pounding and his hands felt icy.  He had lost interest in eating.  

            Lupin smiled grimly.  "Ravenclaws seek knowledge without counting personal cost, and I was determined to learn all I could, as the last surviving Marauder on our side.  In some ways I know Sirius better now than I ever did in his lifetime, and that alone makes all of it worthwhile." 

            "You did it for yourself as well as for me, then," said Harry.  "It's more than just … a birthday present."  Somehow that made it weigh a little less heavily on him.

            "Exactly, Harry.  I'm thinking of asking the four upstairs if they'd like to be re-inducted as honorary members of the Order of the Phoenix, and join us for some of our meetings.  With your agreement of course."

            "Only if I can join too," said Harry, thinking that at last he had a decent bargaining chip.  

            "Fair enough.  I'll get back to you about that."  Lupin gathered up the pictures and placed them back in the portfolio, which he offered to Harry.  "I want you to have these too, Harry.  I hope you find them useful."

            Harry took it, thinking hard.  "I think I'm ready to see the portraits again now, Remus," he said.  "You know, I trust this thing more because it didn't come easily to you.  There's more to it than just magic."

            "Blood, sweat and tears as well, you mean?  Very wise of you, Harry," said Lupin, getting up and replacing the cereal box in the cupboard.  

            "Have you ever thought of making a career out of this kind of thing?"  asked Harry, also rising from the table.  "With your talent?"

            "Well, I expect you think I certainly could use one," said Lupin as they started up the stairs, "but it's not something I could do on commission, for anyone willing to pay.  This was a labor of love."

            "But if you had a chance to do it again for the Order …"

            "Maybe for the Order," Lupin conceded.

            * * * * * * * *

            "Good morning, Harry," the portraits greeted him as he and Lupin entered the studio.  (Harry still wanted the other's company, and he could tell that Lupin was pleased to be asked.)

            "Erm … hi," said Harry.  Although he was a bit more prepared this time, he still felt as if someone had fetched him a clip to the pit of the stomach.  

            "So," said young Sirius in a businesslike way, "what's the topic for today?"

            "Almost being sorted into Slytherin," said Harry promptly.  He had thought about it ahead of time and decided on this line of questioning.  "Sirius, did you actually _tell _the hat you didn't want to be in Slytherin?  I did."  

            "Told it I'd stuff it down the toilet if it tried to put me there," said young Sirius, nodding.

            Harry hesitated before coming out with his next question.  "Pettigrew was a Slytherin, wasn't he?"

            The older Sirius' face darkened.  "Yes, but we trusted him anyway.  James and Lily paid for it with their lives, and you with your scar, Harry."  

            "And you with your freedom, Sirius," said Lupin.  

            "But are there any—" Harry began, and broke off as the door to the studio burst open and Professor Snape appeared.

            —_decent Slytherins?_ Harry had been about to say. 

            "Remus, I have a most urgent report for you," began Snape before he saw Harry.  "What are you doing here, Potter?"  

            "Harry's my guest, Severus," said Lupin mildly.  "I'm afraid I must not have heard you knock.  Welcome to my portrait studio."

            Snape caught sight of the pictures, and recoiled visibly.  "So _this_ is what you've been doing for the past month, Remus?"  Lupin nodded.  "I might have known you would find a completely useless way to occupy your time," he scoffed.

            "Still the same old Snivellus," observed the younger Sirius.  "Hasn't improved with age, has he?"  Lily looked daggers at him, and judging by the sudden yelp he gave, must have succeeded in stomping on his foot. 

            Snape ignored the presence of James and the two Siriuses.  "Good day, Miss _Evans," he said to Lily, with a sneering emphasis on the surname.  _

            "It's Mrs. Potter now, Severus.  But call me Lily, for heaven's sake."  She added ominously, "James and Harry both have something to say to you, Severus." 

            "We do not," said Harry and James in unison.  

            "Yes, you do," Lily insisted.  "This is a perfect opportunity, and if you pass it up I won't let either of you forget it."  James looked uneasy; he must know from experience what that meant.  

            "He doesn't want to hear it," said Harry.  

            "It'll only make him mad," added James.

            "That makes no difference," Lily maintained.  "It's the right thing to do."

            "Easy for you to say," said Harry bitterly.  "You don't have to go to school with him anymore."

            "He has a point, Lily," said the older Sirius.

            Snape looked affronted and deeply alarmed.  He made a move toward the door, muttering, "I haven't got time for this—" but Remus Lupin stood in front of it, saying,  "When you barge in without knocking you have to take the consequences, Severus."

            "My report—" began Snape.

            "Don't go yet, Severus," said Lily sweetly.  "One or two things need clearing up."

            "This I have to see," crowed the younger Sirius in high delight.

            Painting or not, Lily was a most determined person.  Harry began to think that getting it over with might be the simplest thing under the circumstances.  He paused to find words that wouldn't make matters worse, and looked Professor Snape straight in the eye for the first time in over a month.  "Professor Snape, I apologize for—" he wished he could say "messing with your mind," or "acting like a Slytherin" (he hated to waste such a good one), but settled on  "—entering the Pensieve against your wishes."  _But you never told me not to, he couldn't help thinking resentfully._

            Before Snape could react (he was struck speechless), James chipped in hastily, "And I apologize for, er, making it necessary for you to use the Pensieve in the first place, Severus.  So sorry, old chap."  Neither of them sounded very sincere, Harry thought; James sounded downright sarcastic.  Obviously they were both speaking under duress: the outcome was likely to be messy.

            And it was.  For a moment more Snape stood silent, choked with rage, his eyes bulging with it.  "Potter, did I not expressly forbid you discuss what you saw with _anyone?_" he whispered murderously.  

            "Yes, sir," answered Harry faintly.  

            "You agreed that you would not, and yet you have, haven't you, Potter?"  Snape went on, his voice raspy with contempt. 

            "Yes, sir, but not with anyone who didn't already know—I had to understand why my own father would do such a—"

But Snape cut him off.  "Oh, he didn't need a _reason, Potter.  Just an itch to be scratched at whim."  Turning to the paintings, he hissed, "So you've all been talking about me—dissecting my humiliation—mocking and pitying me—so smug and superior and _patronizing_—and _you_ think that a forced apology will improve matters!"  He advanced on the double portrait, shouting, "_I don't need your help, Lily Evans!  _I can deal with the Potters without any interference from you!" _

            Snape pulled out his wand, pointed it at James and Lily, and roared, "_Evanesco!"_

"NO!" screamed Harry, grabbing for Snape's wand hand an instant too late.   The picture vanished, but James had seen the spell coming, grabbed Lily's wrist, and ducked them both out of the frame just in time.  A moment later they reappeared in the painting of young Sirius.  The canvas and frame got wider to make room for them, and Sirius put an arm around each of his friends.  "You bloody bastard," he said through his teeth, glaring at Snape.  "Coward!  You won't even stand up to a painting!"

            Remus Lupin put a shield-spell on the two remaining paintings, and a hand on Harry's shoulder.  Harry was shaking so hard with rage that he couldn't speak; he had to leave it to his allies to put his feelings into words.  They were making some headway.

"I take every word of it back," said James through stiff lips.  "You deserve the worst I ever did to you."

            But Lily was bent on retribution.  Her green eyes blazed with fury, and her voice cracked like a whip.  "Your turn, Severus.  You will apologize to Harry for that." 

            Snape appeared truly taken aback by the results of his impulsive behavior.  He had only made the fire hotter for himself in trying to extinguish it.  "I don't take orders from—" he started, and broke off.    

            "From a painting, I hope you were about to say," said young Sirius softly.  "Because if it was Mudblood—"

"You're so strong and brave, you thought you could get rid of them in one fell blow, didn't you?" snarled the older Sirius.  "It's not enough for you that they've already been murdered!  Oh, but you still think I'm the one who did it, don't you?  So why didn't you try to send _me to blazes first?"_

            "This isn't about me or James, it's about Harry," said Lily.  "Our portraits belong to him; they're for his use.  They're Remus' gift to him.  You're supposed to be a grown-up now, Severus.  You can't go around destroying property in a fit of pique."  

            "Property!" exclaimed young Sirius, his arm tightening around her waist.  "You may think of yourself as just a painted woman, Lily, but you're nobody's property, and neither are the rest of us!"  James gave Sirius an incredulous look and started wheezing with laughter.  

            "Harry is waiting, Severus," said Lily sternly.  Lupin was still blocking Snape's escape, and Harry wasn't about to let him off the hook either.  

Snape evidently decided that there was no getting out of it.  

            "I beg your pardon, Potter," he growled without looking at Harry.  

"Right," said Harry coldly, giving Snape a look of pure venom. Yet he noticed in himself a most unexpected flash of fellow-feeling with his least favorite teacher, about how annoying and embarrassing it was to be made to apologize when both of you knew perfectly well that you didn't mean a word of it and it wouldn't do any good.  

"I think perhaps Remus deserves an apology too, he's worked so hard," said Lily.  "James and I watched him tie himself in knots over his second portrait of Sirius …"

For the first time Lupin looked a little abashed.  "That's quite all right, Lily.  You and James have been a great help, and I'm sure Harry will be happy to go halves with me in that department."

"No problem," said Harry with a straight face.

"Remus, I must give you my report without further delay," said Snape, his face rigid.  "I have many demands on my time."

"Very well, Severus," said Lupin, opening the studio door.  "All right if I leave you here, Harry?"  Harry nodded, and Snape and Lupin exited together.  

            Harry staggered to a chair, sat down heavily, and wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his T-shirt.   "Well, better out than in, as Hagrid says.  But I'm not so sure it's always true."

            "Never again," said James furiously.  "That's the last time I will ever apologize to that … Now do you see why it wasn't a good idea, Lily?"

            She smiled.  "I agree that once was enough, James."

            Harry got up and came close to the two paintings.  "Dad," he said.  "You saved Mum for me."

            "It's what I'm here for, Harry," said James.  "Your mother often acts with a lofty disregard for consequences.  Lucky I'm around to pick up the pieces."  Lily gave him a look that Harry wondered if he was meant to see.  "I wish I could really have saved her for you, Harry."

            "I know," said Harry.  "And Sirius, it's a good thing you were here to give Mum and Dad a place to stay."  

"Glad to return the favor," said young Sirius.  "My frame's always open."

Harry said to Lily, "Mum, you're amazing.  You really did save me, you know."  

            "Remus told us," she said, stretching out a hand as if to trace his scar with her finger.  "But I don't know how I did it."

            "I think I do," he told her.  He turned slowly, almost reluctantly, to the other painting, to the Sirius who knew him, the friend he had lost.  He put a hand on each side of the frame.

            "Sirius," said Harry.  "Oh, God, Sirius … It's really you, isn't it?"  

He badly wanted to hear, "Don't be an ass.  Of course it's really me."  But what the older Sirius actually said was, "As far as I can tell, Harry, except for the obvious."  (His eyes swivelled to his younger counterpart.)  "But it's up to you to decide.  Test me in any way you like."  He grinned.  "And if I pass the test, it's Moony you should thank, Harry.  You're lucky to have him."  

"'Do the dead we loved ever truly leave us?'" quoted Harry, looking into Sirius' eyes.  "Dumbledore said that to me once."  And then it hit him.  He said, "Full marks on that question, Sirius.  And ten points to Gryffindor!"  The three in the other painting clapped and cheered, and Harry joined in.  

            Remus Lupin was waiting outside the door.  "Professor Snape left," he said as Harry appeared.  "I saw him out the door ten minutes ago."  Lupin searched Harry's face for a moment, then pulled him into a fierce hug and said in his ear, "Real enough for you, Harry?"

            "Real enough, Moony," choked Harry into Lupin's shoulder.    

**************

AN:  And so they all saw the error of their ways and repented of their sins and lived happily ever after.  I love sappy endings.  Thanks to Leona da Quirm for the chapter titles.  


End file.
